soul giver
by Mistress-Immia
Summary: Light realizes he misses L more than he thought and he will give anything to have him back — even if the price is something as great as his soul.
1. bored gods and angry spirits

_notes/warnings;_

 _\+ this is a lxlight fanfiction_

 _\+ it might turn into smut? I will put a warning on those chapters if it turns out to be_

 _\+ set after L's death_

 _\+ sorry about typos or whatever! I am but a monkey on a keyboard, I type letters in haphazardly and publish them before the regret sets in_

* * *

 _"_ _ _Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying." ― Arthur C. Clarke__

Light Yagami has always been a very logical person. He never once has made a bad judgement, for his assessment on logic has always been precisely accurate. He's always taken pride in the fact that, despite everything, he would be able to push emotion aside and let rationality take it's course.

Not once, _once_ has he fallen victim to the emotional human narrative. He's always been able to pull himself together even in the worst of times.

Even when killing his own father, he was not affected.

So he doesn't understand how, now, someone so very ridiculously effective in destroying all his plans could be influencing him so devastatingly much. L, his rival, his worst enemy—now the singular face in all his nightmares.

He stares at the blank grave in front of him and doesn't even flinch when a raindrop lands upon his shoulder. There's no name on it, but he knows exactly who is buried there. Above the tomb sits a white cross, unbelievably ironic to the whole situation. L would roll over in his grave. He never believed in God. The cemetery is quiet, eerily so. Not even a sound of a car passes by.

L.

He's killed millions of people, and, theoretically, L should be just another name in his notebook that has been executed by his own hand, but, alas, Light has a hard time seeing him that way. He's tried to consider his purpose, tried to remember L had to die for a reason. After all, L was his biggest obstacle. His only obstacle. No one else has ever had the brain to go up against the teen, Light was convinced no one else ever would. Light supposes it's natural. He spent months with the reclusive detective, being investigated. They were both of the same intelligence, the same mind. He was bound to form some type of bond with the genius, even if he never held him even close to being a _friend._ It seemed Light has underestimated the strongness of that bond, however.

Light is _seeing_ him everywhere, smelling him, **tasting** him on his tongue.

At first, it had only been small things. A glimpse of raven hair, the smell of strawberries on his clothing, a sudden sickening sugary taste right behind his lips. Yes, at first, it had started out small. He was fine in dealing with that. But now, he _sees_ him.

Everytime he looks in the mirror he catches a glimpse of dark eyes and pale skin. He feels eyes watching him. He can see the detective in his old chair sometimes, thumb to his lips with that annoying posture he was always sporting. Light can see the detective wherever he goes, even now, crouching beside the own man's grave. The rain begins to sprinkle harder and harder.

He's tried to ignore the hallucinations, tried to let them pass like all things, tried to _reason_ with himself it's not real, but he can't help but begin to believe that the things he sees are not mere imaginations—but mockery from the grave. Perhaps L is still alive somewhere, on some eternal, pitiful purgatory, spending his eternity mocking him. It would make Light feel better than having no L here at all.

A small—very small, illogical—part of Light's brain doesn't want L to be gone.

It's been so boring here without him.

Light Yagami has always been a reasonable person, but now here he is, seeing dead people and standing out in the middle of a cemetery during a coming storm.

It's all very troubling, really.

There is a distant roar of thunder and the hysterics of a very entertained shinigami.

* * *

Things only get worse from there.

The scent of Misa's perfume still lingers in the air like an annoying fog, threatening to give Light a migraine worse than any he's ever had. She's been worried about the way he's been acting lately, so she's been visiting more often. Her visits are not helping, that's for sure. He can still hear her voice in his head from nearly an hour ago, that high pitched sound beating at his eardrums still. Light had made it in from the rain in time earlier today, but almost wished he would've let himself be soaked so he might've had an excuse not to be with her. He makes a mental note to take three aspirin instead of two the next time she comes. He doubts _anything_ could combat her migraine inducing power, but he figures he might as well give it a shot.

Light's been writing down names since she left. A few criminals there, a few here. Now that his biggest rival is dead, he doesn't have to worry about hiding too much anymore. The investigation team is nothing more than a bunch of idiots and leave him alone nowadays. They could never see past him. Not like L ever could.

There, in the corner of his eye, he spots him.

He knows it's him because the investigation hall is empty. No one comes to check on him unless it's Misa. He likes it that way.

On the other end of the room, though it's very dark, he can see L sitting in an investigation chair, crouched up like Light had never written his name in the Death Note. He's dimly lit by the lamp on that side of the room, but Light can just make out his hunched over form. The detective is eerily still, his black, cool gaze never shifting from the boy. Light tries to go back writing his notebook, but is stopped when he catches movement out of his peripheral. L is a chair closer. Two chairs away from him. Light glances around, eyes wide. His hallucinations have never moved like that before. Experimentally, he closes his eyes and reopens them.

A chair closer. Only one more and he will be… Light tries not to think about it and swallows. He examines the detective. His dark circles are so heavy, and there is so much hate in that gaze.

 _It's what you get, L,_ Light thinks, _you're nothing more than a loser._

It's a comforting thought, really, but Light is beginning to lack the courage to even blink. He doesn't want L in front of him. He doesn't even want to _see_ the detective, but having him right in front of him—the thought makes him shiver for some reason.

His eyes are getting dry, red. L stares on, almost as if he's mocking him.

 _I dare you to close your eyes, Light,_ he can imagine the detective mumbling, his stare pressing on.

Light sneers and narrows his eyes at that, turning them back to the paper. He won't be scared by some pitiful, pathetic trick of his mind. He's not a child. His reason will always prevail over L's own. He won't be bested by a hallucination.

Light let's his eyes wander up to the seat, expecting to come face to face with L himself. Instead, he's faced with nothing. The chair is empty, L is gone. Light looks around, eyes wide. No sign of the detective whatsoever.

These hallucinations are getting worse, horrifyingly so. Light sighs and rests his head on the back of the chair, breathing out a heavy sigh of relief.

"Why do I keep seeing you?" He whispers, clicking his pen in his hand. The silence is quickly interrupted by a reply, one which Light had not been expecting.

 _"Perhaps because you miss me, Raito-kun?"_ a milky smooth voice responds. The boy almost swears he can feel breath on his ear.

Light nearly falls out of his chair, eyes wide on the spot behind him.

There is nothing there.

* * *

It's been a week since the incident and Light is still shaken up over it. He can still feel L's breath on his neck, still here those words in his ear. He's been avoiding the investigation room completely. The whole task force is worried about him. It's been a job trying to hide the fact he's scared to death of being alone or in that god awful room, but he's tried to stifle their suspicions with complaints of not feeling well. He's convinced he's going stir crazy without his rival, without someone to compete against. Sometimes he feels himself slipping, feels L all around him.

Sometimes, even, he _wants_ to see him again. His whole world is so bleak now. _His_ world. But so bleak. Never had he imagined he had grown so close to the detective.

Those times are the worst.

Now he stands out on top of the balcony, just as L had a long time ago, gazing out over Tokyo. The sky is grey again, almost mocking his own dullness. His world is nothing but grey now, even the lit buildings are emitting nothing but a dim kind of light. Nothing stirs against his eyes. The whole world is so much less interesting without _him_ there.

He, of course, does not miss him, but he does crave the need for _challenge_ once again. Now that he has tasted it, he craves nothing more than to experience it again. What does he have to fight against now? The world is in his hands—his own grasp—yet he is not happy.

Things are not going according to plan.

L. His worst enemy. How did he ever think he could have escaped him?

"You're pretty boring, you know?"

Light jumps, his hair standing on end as he turns around—half expecting to be met with the furious dark gaze of a leering ghost detective. Instead, he is simply met with the bulging, red eyes of his own shinigami, a much less horrendous sight. Light has really grown to hate him lately.

"Ryuk," he grinds his teeth, staring down the shinigami evilly and crossing his arms, "what did I tell you about sneaking up on me like that?"

The boy turns back to the railing, leaning on it and sneering. The shinigami laughs in response, floating up behind him to the eye the city below. It apparently doesn't excite the death god too much. He goes back to annoying Light.

"But it's the only way I can get any interesting response out of you anymore." Ryuk replies, grin faltering at the edges. "It's no fair. Here I thought I had an interesting human, but instead I get a little lame brain."

Light only sighs. He wants to be entertained too. He leans his head on the cold railing like he used to do when he was a teenager and closes his eyes. Not even a death god is a match for the entertainment L gave him.

"There are apples in the fridge, Ryuk. Just leave me be." Light could care less about anything the shinigami has to say. It's not like the death god can provide any help to him anyway. As if the thing would _want_ to anyway.

"That's pretty tempting, I gotta say," the shinigami replies, floating around Light like a little bird. "but, no. This isn't gonna work. Nothing is happening, Light."

Ryuk groans when the boy doesn't respond and decides perching on the railing beside Light would be more comfortable. He proceeds to sit on the handrail like a monkey. It's really not flattering.

"You've been so boring after that human guy died. What was his name? L? Right. What's up with that?" Ryuk looks over at Light for at least a shrug, but, alas, nothing. "Ugh. It's like you miss him or something. Geez."

Ryuk looks over to the doors, thinking about going after those apples if Light doesn't respond, but is rather pleased when the boy looks up at him with wide eyes. He's hit the sweet spot. Maybe this boy is still somewhat interesting?

 _Perhaps you miss me, Raito-kun?_

The words the hallucination had said ring through Light's head like a chime, still so clear and right in his ear.

"Miss him? Of course not." The boy talks to Ryuk and L at the same time. He, at least, hopes L will hear him. "I'm finally able to take over the world, become God. There is nothing standing in my way anymore."

He doesn't miss him. It's not that at all. Even if he did, it wouldn't matter now. There's no bringing him back. The fun is over.

Light decides to continue on, "Nevertheless, it is far less interesting without him here. For now, at least."

The shinigami agrees, but says nothing. His grin spreads wider. Yes, this whole scenario is very interesting indeed. There is a sort of mischievous glint to the death god's eyes, a idea clustering in that very thick skull of his. Ryuk can hardly contain himself, it's all going perfectly.

"Do you wish you could have done it all over? Without killing the human?" Ryuk questions, gazing over at the boy.

There is silence. Light's eyes falter from the never blinking death god's own. Does he? Light is not sure. He had never thought about it. Another chance? He thinks of keeping L alive, making him watch as he turned his world inside out. He clears his throat. "Perhaps. What of it, shinigami?"

" _So what if you could have him back?"_ The creature says. There's something malicious in his voice.

Light scoffs at the death god rather cynically. "Ryuk, don't kid me. Life is not so simple. If it was, man would have already figured it out by now."

"You think it's complex?" Ryuk lets out one of those raspy little laughs he always does."If a Death Note can kill a person so simply, you think it's any harder to bring them back? Humans are just stupid is all, Light-o."

The auburn haired boy gazes over at Ryuk, now curious. Having L back? To do all over? The death god has caught his attention. Ryuk had never offered to tell such interesting information before.

The shinigami continues on, eyes twinkling. "Yes, bringing someone back to life is easy, but you would have to be willing to make a deal with me in order for a human to be brought back."

Light's interest suddenly deteriorates. He hates deals. He turns back to the city, frowning. The shinigami can see he has lost him.

"Wait, wait," Ryuk tries to recover, almost falling off the handrail in the process. "It's simple. Same as the eye deal. Except I take from you the remaining lifespan of the human you are trying to bring back. How many years they had before you, you know, wiped 'em out."

Light's frown deepens. He should have known this was all a trick. "Like I said before, Ryuk, how is a god supposed to rule with half, or more of his remaining lifespan?"

"Yea, yea, but think about it, Light-o," Ryuk says, eyeing the lifespan above Light's head hungrily, " _how is a God supposed to rule anything when he has nothing to do?"_

Light's eyes widen. He's completely silent.

Ryuk jumps from the railing, smiling from ear to ear.

"Well, just think about it," he says, leaving Light to stand out on the roof alone. "Those apples are sounding pretty good right about now."

The shinigami disappears without a second thought. He really should get a paid bonus sometime. He's too good at his job. He can almost taste the life seeping right out of that boy.

Another clash of thunder sounds from outside. It starts to pour.

Light eyes the city—his city—and thinks,

 _Do I really want to rule this world alone?_


	2. god taketh and god giveth

_warnings/notes;_

 _\+ ahh i published two days in a row! go me! anyway. here is the next installment._

 _\+ poor light baby is really missing his smol frog man_

 _\+ ryuk is as sneaky as always_

 _\+ again, sorry about the typos or anything you find! Feel free to tell me. I don't mind._

* * *

Ryuk has never cared for humans. To him, they are merely prey—a feast for the reaping, a soul for taking. Humans to shinigami are nothing more than food to the shinigami kind. Vessels. A single name the death gods are to write to exist. Shinigamis that pity them, that feel for them—those are the ones who become dust. Loving, caring—those are dangerous traits in a shinigami. Rem and Jealous have been mere examples. There have been many more that have exhibited such an awful trait and suffered the consequences. Shinigamis are executors, not care takers.

Ryuk, as opposed to many who have dropped their notebooks to the human realm, has never once cared for a human. He may study them, talk to them, eat their apples, but has never actually felt for one. Not because he's scared of empathy, but, instead, because he simply never has. He is merely playing with his food, toying with it before he eventually consumes it. Ryuk, has, however, always been intrigued by mortals. A species that wars against one another, creates new technology, abides by no strict rules… Humans, indeed, are very interesting to observe.

Humans have always interested Ryuk, yes, but he, at one time, had thought they were all the same. Their narratives, their lives, their thoughts … Ryuk had thought they all followed the same pattern. Sure, watching a few times is entertaining, but enjoying the same story over and over again? The thought had always bored the shinigami. That is, until he dropped his notebook to earth and met Light Yagami—a boy with the will to become God. How hilarious! To think a human actually would believe they—their measly little mortal self—could attain such a high status. Ryuk had never known any human to do that.

It was captivating.

Fascinating.

Entertaining.

Ryuk has always thought Light was different than any other human. A human with endless, original entertainment.

Perhaps, that is why, after all this time, the shinigami was so disappointed when Light fell into the exact same narrative as the other mortals. Grief. Depression. Rebuttal. He had never seen the boy sport it. Perhaps once in an attempt to mask himself in front of the other, much less interesting humans, but never genuine.

To his dismay, he found that Light was, all at once, like any other human. He had hoped the mortal would be one of the rare few which strayed from the inner emotion of their pitiful little hearts, but, alas, even Light fell into the human trap. He had watched the boy kill many—criminals, FBI agents, even his own father. Not once had he stumbled. He kept pressing forward, unaffected. Never once had emotion run through Light's eyes. However, when Light had killed the detective, something had changed. Something very deep, something very vital to Ryuk's entertainment, had shifted.

Ryuk could never understand why, but the detective had affected him in the most crucial way. Even after death, the human had destroyed all of Light's schemes. Somehow, L had worked his way into Light's very being—and now, here Light is, trapped in the human condition.

Ryuk is sorely disappointed. His fun with the human is coming to an end. He does not feel bad for tricking the boy into giving more of his lifespan. Anything is fair game.

Humans are innately boring anyway.

* * *

Light finds himself now standing out in the rain as it pours down from all around him, trying to process the information that the shinigami had given him. It's thundering, coming a hell of a storm, but Light doesn't care. He feels like his mind is overriding. A way to bring L back? Part of his mind still rebukes the idea, but the other is genuinely hopeful. He doesn't know what's wrong with him.

Everything he had worked for had all been dependent on L dying. His death had been carved in stone from the start. His vision of a new world, becoming a God, cleansing this world, all of it had centred around destroying the obstacles in his way. Yet, now, he feels as if his goals have changed. His resolve is shifting.

 **He had felt like this before.**

Before he found the Death Note, before he met L, he had been completely bored. He had grown accustomed to it, but he felt as if his life had no purpose. His whole life he spent without once having a challenge. School, athletics, girls, all those things had come plainly easy for him. He had never once struggled with anything in his life. Everyone loved him from the moment they met him, everyone saw how talented and wonderful he was. He had friends beyond count. People looked up to him.

Light Yagami has always been a perfect star boy.

In theory, that life should be what everyone craves, what everyone would die to have, but, in reality, there is something so utterly boring about that life. No struggle. No challenge. He lived his perfect life in peace. Peace, however, had never been good enough for him. He had always craved something more.

He wanted to change the world.

People like him, perfect people, people who had no struggle–those were the ones who could change nothing.

He never understood people, those who craved the simple life. He had that, yet it was nothing. He found himself bored beyond belief. Things that were hard for others were not hard for him.

He felt he would never find anything that could combat him, someone, who he could challenge his intelligence, his perfection.

That was until he found the Death Note and L.

The notebook changed everything about his life. He had something to live for. Someone to struggle against.

In a way, Light believed L yearned for the same thing behind that reclusive mask.

 ** _Challenge.  
_**

L had been his biggest obstacle, but perhaps that had not been a bad thing.

A sudden flash of lightning illuminates the sky over the city. Below him, people scurry like rats to shelter. Rain cascades from the grey above. Everything is bleak, dreary.

Light Yagami is a god, yet he is miserable.

If he were to bring him back to life, could he change all this?

On the opposite side of him, throughout the heavy rain, he can spot a blurry vision of L, staring off into the grey sky with an almost wistful look hidden behind his dark lids.

Light follows his gaze, staring off into the clouds as the storm rages on.

Light can't help but wonder if destroying L had not been the best choice after all.

* * *

Ryuk is not surprised when Light comes stumbling in from outside, completely soaked from head to toe. The boy looks pitiful. Lately, he had been looking more like a skeleton than any God Ryuk had ever seen.

"Ryuk." He calls the shinigami's name, beckoning him over to him. Ryuk isn't surprised. He knew from the beginning his plan was perfect. Every piece had fallen into order. He had found the human's weak spot. It was now time to exploit it.

The hallway they are standing in is dimly lit through the glass windows all about them. Outside, there is another great boom of thunder.

The shinigami laughs and floats over to Light, swallowing the whole apple in one very large bite. He licks his lips, delighted.

"Oi, Light-o, never knew you to like the rain so much." Ryuk says, "Thought about my deal any?"

The death god recalls this whole scene from a time before, Light standing there soaked in that doorway is like a ringing memory. He pushes past it. It doesn't matter anyway.

Light runs a hand through his wet hair, eyeing the shinigami. Obviously being soaked is the least of his concerns right now.

"Yes, actually, I have a question for you."

There is something different in the boy's eyes. Something that fills the shinigami with pure hope.

Ryuk grins. "Yea, sure. Lay it on me."

"If I… happen to… do this deal with you, I must know the setbacks."

The boy may have succumbed to emotion, but he's not stupid. Ryuk has always liked his wit.

"Uh, setbacks? Well, like I said, to bring someone back the remaining lifespan—"

"—I know about that," Light scoffs, glowering at him. "I'm asking if there are any others."

The shinigami shrugs, "Not that I know of."

Light raises a slim eyebrow.

"Not that you know of?" He says, confused. Was it not a shinigami he was dealing with?

"Well, how should I know," The shinigami answers rather simply, "it's never really been done before."

The boy looks at him rather astounded. "Really?"

"Maybe once or twice, but not that I know of. It's a pretty special little deal. Not a lot of people want to bring back those they write in with their Death Notes, so it has really never been brought up."

Light looks at the floor, seeming to stare off into nothingness. He's pondering, thinking. Ryuk hopes he's still got him on the hook.

Drip. Drip. God, the floor is really a mess now.

Ryuk goes to say something else, trying to fill in the silence with a positive remark—something to save his case—but is interrupted.

"Will he remember?" the boy says quietly, "Will he remember what happened?"

There are many questions racing through Light's mind, so many he can process any of them.

The death god eyes Light curiously. "Like I said, I have no clue."

Light looks off into the distance, staring off at the stairs behind Ryuk like there is someone sitting there. The shinigami looks, expecting to find another human, but finds nothing there. He's convinced the boy really has gone off the deep end.

"But hey, at least you'll have him, right? Someone to entertain you? Free you of that boredom–"

"Ryuk," Light says, he turns, looking out at the world, his world, once more. Soon, he wonders if it will all be taken away from him. "I want to make the deal."

Light is sure he has just made a grave mistake.

Then the shinigami let out a laugh, and then another, and continued to laugh until he felt his sides ache.

Light keeps looking off into the distance, staring off at something that does not exist.

Maybe Light is still an interesting mortal, after all.


	3. resurrection

_\+ this is a lxlight fanfic_

 _\+ thank you for all the reviews! c:_

 _\+ smol frog man, finally_

* * *

Death.

If one would try to describe it they would not to be able to. For in every culture there is a different idea or story of the afterlife—a life after the current one, good or bad. Many believe in heaven, or in paradise. Many believe in hell. Some, even, believe in purgatory. Death however, is not an extension, not a line to some other world… in its simplest form, death is just pure, blissful oblivion.

Numb.

Cold.

Those are the words that come breaking through the icy nullity, awakening consciousness into the mind—or lack of—of the dead. It is not human resolve that spurred such an uncanny event—as in death there is no resolve or humanity at all, but, instead, something much stranger. A deal. A notebook. A human god.

His first instinct is to breathe.

He tries to open his mouth, stretch out his chest, use any attempt at all to get his lungs to just move, to make his heart pump with blood. If he had any breath to catch, he would be chortling. A sort of panic sets in and then, he simply remembers.

He is not alive anymore.

He does not have a body.

He is the great detective L, and he is dead.

He finds himself—or the lack of himself—in suspension, stretched out into the darkness so he can not register himself anymore. He is just one great expanse of self awareness spanned far in black and nothingness.

Awareness, but not existence. He has thoughts, but no body, brain, lungs, arms, legs… is he, in truth, even L?

L, the world's greatest detective.

L, the man who had been killed by…

He struggles to remember. Though hazy, a name tugs at his consciousness.

Light Yagami.

If he had a heart, it would have shuttered. He had died, been beaten, destroyed by the teen. A teen who had thought himself a God.

Kira.

But how long ago? Ten years? Fifteen years? One hundred?

He was not sure. It seemed that, along with his body, he had also lost the ability to determine time.

Why had he been woken, pulled from oblivion? A time limit? A pure coincidence of fate? An error? A cruel punishment? Perhaps even death itself was on Light's side. What more could Light want than his eternal torment? Perhaps his successors had failed? Perhaps Light had really become a god?

If L could've, he would have shivered.

All of this because L had failed. He had not been able to properly give evidence for Light's guilt, and so, all those he had cared for were put in danger. Yes, those people had all known the risks, but the consciousness that is L feels rather responsible.

Watari.

Perhaps the task force.

Maybe even his successors..

He had put them all in danger. Doomed them to execution by the hand of Kira.

All because he had put too much faith in the boy, had become too attached. He had known from the start.

L Lawliet had solved many cases, had put thousands in prison, and yet he was defeated by a mere high school student. Of course, age never really mattered when it came to intelligence, but it did still irk the detective horribly.

He did not fall to a trick or to a mind game, but, instead, because of attachment.

If L would have put his emotions aside, he would have won.

Light had been a challenge, had understood his genius, and L had been intrigued. A very dangerous quality, truly.

If only he had a second chance, perhaps he could fix it all. The probability of such an event… however…

He wishes for the ability to bite his thumb, to crouch, to squat, to do something other than this.

To do anything at all other than feel nothing.

Perhaps it is because of his wish, or perhaps it is because of the sheer memory of living, but at that very moment something begins to happen to L. He does not know how, for he has no body to experience feeling, but L begins to feel hot. From the very depths of the nothing, something begins to burn within the very culmination of his being. Something begins to awaken.

The feeling is so familiar, so terrifyingly redundant of his own death that he feels almost the need to panic. He has no heart, but he feels as if his is spasming once again—convulsing before that final beat. Is this his punishment? To experience his own demise over and over again? To have it smeared in his face constantly how he was defeated by Kira?

And then, like some kind of great eclipsing moon, something comes creeping into vision.

White. Blinding white.

It comes trickling into his conscious like spilt milk, closing around him, gathering him together; and then cultivating—enveloping him with ivory.

Through the pain and pearly shades, he feels himself congealing—becoming something truly whole, and then,

"L Lawliet, it is your time to wake up."

A voice calls out to him. It is loud and all around him. He tries to open his eyes, tries to catch a glimpse of the person who had spoken to him, but he is suddenly tugged out of that world and into the next.

And then, for the first time in a long time, L Lawliet breathes.

Light Yagami opens his eyes after a second, the storm still raging on ahead of him.

He looks down at his notebook, eyeing the now empty page that had once contained L's name before turning back to the shinigami.

The wind does not howl, but screams outside. Though the boy did not believe in signs, Light hopes the storm is not an omen. He turns and eyes the shinigami, eyes glancing around him panicked. Ryuk is smiling wide, satisfied, apparently.

"I do not see L." He whispers, eyebrows narrowed as he glares back at the shinigami. "Do not tell me this is a trick, shinigami."

The death god laughs again as another clash of lightning strikes just in time to lighten the red of his glowing eyes. "What, did you expect him to really just appear out of nowhere, human?"

If he would have been speaking with any other human, they might have trembled.

Light growls, eyes narrowing further. "Then how shall he appear?"

Ryuk shrugs, "I'm supposing the last place his body was, but that's just my guess."

Light nearly wants to punch himself for his stupidity. He must remember, just because he made a deal with a shinigami doesn't mean people just magically appear at their will.

In an instant, he takes off down the stairwell in flight. Ryuk follows suit.

The cemetery.

The investigation team watch as a hurried Light rushes through the doors into the investigation hall, grabbing hold of his car keys and jacket before turning to the exit doors.

"Light where are you—"

They don't get an answer. Light is already out the doors in the pouring rain, sprinting off to his Lexus.

He can't let him die again.


End file.
